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Same Old, Same Old

I have the best friend in the universe. I know this because I called him today while I was waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in. My uterus is not happy with me today, and it was not wasting any time in letting me know this. I didn't even feel like I could read. My vocabulary was drastically limited because I couldn't string two coherent thoughts together. I couldn't actually laugh because doing so would disturb my uterus.

My best friend kept me company as the ibuprofen kicked in, and managed to distract me enough so that the half-hour was not the utter agony it could have been.

Most of the actual conversation was somewhat bizarre and probably didn't make much sense. That was OK. He was concerned about my lack of coherent, but once I explained he settled down, although he did recommend a nice warm bath. (That would still be nice.) When I mentioned Dawn's hosed phone, he got me good by pulling a hurt-and-angry on the "If that's what it takes to get her to call me...!", then laughed at me when I apologized. Moment of panic, thinking I'd hurt the dearest man to me in the world.

Once I finally started to feel better, he complained about TMI. "You mean it's TMI when I tell you my uterus doesn't hurt, but it's not TMI when I tell you it does? ... Or it was TMI then too, and you just weren't complaining because I was in so much pain."

He gets cranky when I tell him he's sweet. But he is. ♥
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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